


swear not by the moon (because you, my darling, are the sun)

by purpleshell



Series: sing, o muse, of celestial souls torn with love [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Bottom Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Donghyuck is a spoiled brat and I love it, Explicit Sexual Content, Finger Sucking, M/M, Renjun and Jeno make a brief appearance, Spit As Lube, Top Mark Lee (NCT), because that's what you add when your smut system malfunctions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26605009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleshell/pseuds/purpleshell
Summary: Word of prince Donghyuck’s beauty reached even the farthest parts of the kingdom, so far that Mark’s companions sometimes whispered of it under the crescent moon. The bare mention of the prince’s name brought men to their knees, wars promised to be waged over who will court him. He made gods angry for outstanding them in their grace.And now Mark, an outlaw without a jeweled crown or throne, will make him bow and break under his feet.//or alternatively: a kingdom au where prince donghyuck falls in hands of mark, a desert outlaw, who’s determined to keep donghyuck for himself even after the battle is over
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Series: sing, o muse, of celestial souls torn with love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985536
Comments: 47
Kudos: 686





	swear not by the moon (because you, my darling, are the sun)

**Author's Note:**

> huge thanks to S for helping me with editing this!! fic and title mostly inspired by got7's "not by the moon".

It was never the image of body upon body, stacked like sacrificial animals over an altar, but the smell of blood which haunted Mark for days to come after the battle. Vultures were his forever companions in these quests, as he walked between seas of dead men. Black smoke gushed over them like a giant serpent of all their sins. The blood of fallen men mixed with that of their horses, melting into the sand they lay upon.

Not much has passed since Mark’s victory over the King’s army, something which started as a camp raid and ended up being the biggest bloodbath the Desert had seen in decades. Truth be told, the King had it coming. He was the one who provoked Mark by stepping into his territory, even if the Desert only lay between his kingdom and the King’s true goal – earl Jaehyun’s castle in the south. Unfortunately, the now late King made a mistake of lowering his guard by misinterpreting Mark and his company as a “harmless bunch of thieves”. They may have called them that back in the Capital, but Mark grew up in this land where black and auburn sand molded into golden dunes under the blazing sun. He knew every inch of this endless sea like the back of his hand. The King's faith had been written in the sand the very moment he decided to defile it with bloodlust steps of his army.

Anyone who dared to oppose Mark here could end up like the late King Jungho – head in a sack, their life dripping from Mark’s scimitar.

As the soft orange glow of the setting sun fell over the sand, a crimson trace followed Mark as he reached the middle of the camp where a tent had been set, this one somewhat bigger in size than the ones around it. Before the massacre, there were royal guards watching the entrance, but now Mark’s two most trustworthy men stood instead.

Mark didn't bother with pulling the scarf from his face that protected him from the sand. His men could easily differentiate him from the rest by the lion emblem he carried on his uniform, a roaring beast right where his heart lay. They greeted their leader with a curt nod of their heads, moving slightly to the side so they could make room for Mark to step in.

“Is he still there?”

“He is, sir,” one of the guards replied. “No one has gotten in or out, as you ordered.”

Mark hummed at that, satisfied, finally pushing the drapes of the entrance and walking into the tent.

It came as no surprise that another member of the royal family accompanied the king during his campaigns. That duty was usually upon the eldest son and his brothers. Occasionally, the entire royal court would follow their majesty, helping him showoff wealth and power that resided in his heirs.

In Mark’s case, he’d caught the prettiest little bird of them all.

The first thing that greeted Mark sent a chill down his spine. Growing up in the wilderness made him wary of any scent that didn’t belong among the sand and heat. Nights brought another sense of particularity that Mark had a hard time explaining to any wanderer that came from the outside world. For that reason, he couldn’t stop his body from reacting to the heavy smell of incense, thin strips of smoke dancing around his feet, luring him in.

The entrance hall stood empty before Mark. Nothing but some richly decorated chairs, bowls of pomegranate seeds and figs spilled over the floor, books left in a hurry when the sound for battle echoed over the camp. Inspecting the place carefully, his eyes slowly fell on the thick drape separating the atrium from the rest of the tent. Behind it, two shadows danced in the light of a few candles.

Mark felt his mouth go dry. His boots made no sound against the soft ground, yet his warrior heart made up for it, beating so heavily he thought even the guards outside could hear it. No battle or victory could come close to what he felt at this moment when his hand lingered over the drape, fingers hesitating.

Word of prince Donghyuck’s beauty reached even the farthest parts of the kingdom, so far that Mark’s companions sometimes whispered of it under the crescent moon. The bare mention of the prince’s name brought men to their knees, wars promised to be waged over who will court him. He made gods angry for outstanding them in their grace.

It was well known that this gem of the Southern Kingdom refused all courtiers, no king or prince able to withstand his demands. And now Mark, an outlaw without a jeweled crown or throne, will make him bow and break under his feet.

Unlike the previous room, this one resembled something more fit for the king’s son. Its candles illuminated the tent with enough light to reflect off of every bit of gold it held – goblets with red wine, gems hanging off the canopy bed, prince Donghyuck’s skin. And he revealed so little of it as he reached for a wine glass, just a flash of a thin wrist between his lace glove and silk sleeve, enough for Mark to stop and just stare.

In that very moment, Mark knew why stories of Donghyuck’s beauty were carried with the wind that made sonnets of his name drip down poets' quills like honey. He once heard how the prince made a man fall sick with love only with his glance and to Mark it now all made sense. This boy in silk and gold didn’t even bother to look at him, yet his mere presence shook Mark to his very core.

The prince half-lay relaxed on his divan, his torso propped against the backrest while he played with the glass in his hand. The crystal object seemed far more interesting than this stranger that had just barged into his private chambers, the same stranger who cut his father’s head off moments ago. It felt like another world played inside of this tent, a world that saw no war, where blood got spilled only when Donghyuck desired weak men to compete for his heart.

That thought alone infuriated Mark. He didn’t spend days planning an attack and defending his territory, only to have some prince pull him apart like a wild beast would. Mark was a lion and he was going to show Donghyuck what happened to little boys who choose to play war with him.

“It is custom to bow before His Majesty,” a voice spoke from another corner of the tent. Mark turned to see a young man, probably around Donghyuck’s age, dressed in long robes, his white cloak trailing after him as he walked around the room, attending to the last of the unlit candles. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Mark recalled how only servants wore white in the king’s court. Yet, this particular one had the posture some princes would envy. When he leaned over the flame, a line of silver dust flickered on his face, shining prettily. If prince Donghyuck was the Sun, then this boy was brought up under the moonlight, pale and sidereal.

“I am afraid Your Majesty holds no power in this land,” Mark said, his voice coming out muffled from behind the scarf. He glanced at Donghyuck, who still paid no mind to him. The prince moved in his seat so he could cross one ankle over the other, his legs clad in tight leather stretching lazily on the plush seat.

“Surely, he should be the one bowing before me now.”

“You better watch your mouth-“

“It’s alright, Renjun. We should hear what the infamous Mark Lee has to say to us,” prince Donghyuck called, his voice sharp and cutting through Mark’s chest like a blade. _Finally_ , he directed his attention to his father’s executioner, orbs that held nebulas to which Mark prayed every night. Instinctively, Mark’s hand went for his scimitar. He rarely believed in hoaxes, but how could this prince before him be human. No mortal ever carried such power in only his eyes.

Mark’s hesitancy seemed to amuse Donghyuck. He raised his hand as if he allowed Mark to speak to him.

“Your father’s dead.”

“I know,” Donghyuck said, his features empty of any sentiment. “Anything else?”

Mark frowned. He fooled himself when he thought he’d have Donghyuck on his knees the moment he entered, the prince pathetically begging him for mercy. Only, Donghyuck seemed completely unfazed, entertained if not, his brow rising slightly when Mark explained the situation to him.

“You sit here as the next in the line for the throne, but there is no crown on your head. Do you know why that is, Your Majesty? “

A smirk rose on Donghyuck’s pretty lips. “Do you think I need a crown to be king?”

Mark almost laughed. It was true, what the prince said. Mark never wore a crown in his life, yet men and women fell before him whenever they saw Mark’s hand closing around his scimitar. Holding onto that thought, he took a daring step towards the prince. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Renjun going for something under his cloak.

Donghyuck made no intention to move. He blinked lazily behind his messy bangs, reminding Mark of wild felines he sometimes saw lurking in the oasis, ones that were the most unpredictable, ready to rip throats whenever you'd turn your backs on them.

“Were you the one who killed my father?”

The question made Mark stop in his tracks. “What makes you think that?”

“You hide your face. Are you ashamed of what you did?”

With a snarl, Mark reached for the black scarf that left only his eyes for Donghyuck to read. He easily threw the thin material before the prince’s feet. Sweet jasmine blending with incense from the silver censer overpowered his senses.

“So, you are not ashamed. Interesting,” the prince muttered, chewing on his bottom lip. He made a move to place his glass on the side table and that holy moment, where his silky shirt rode low enough for two moles to cause a supernova inside of Mark, was enough distraction for Renjun to sneak behind Mark, his hand bravely gripping a dagger.

But before the fateful weapon could stain Renjun’s hands with outlaw blood, the sand under his bare feet whispered loud enough for Mark to easily grip Renjun’s arm, twisting it behind his back. The boy fell, his dagger forced out of his hands. Alarmed, Mark quickly searched for the prince.

There, on the divan, Donghyuck sat still like a divine sculpture, a figure caught in the moment. His eyes, those dark heavens, watched the scene play before him like one might expect a miraculous deus to appear and renew their faith.

Unconsciously, his grip on Renjun tightened. The boy whimpered, startling Donghyuck. It was nothing more than twitch of a knee, but not quick enough to go unnoticed by Mark.

“ _Ah_ ,” Mark hummed knowingly. His gloved hand pressed harder. 

He enjoyed the way Donghyuck tensed in his seat, fighting an inner battle that read in the way cold sweat broke on his forehead, sticking those brown bangs to his damp skin. His shoulders fell whenever Renjun sounded like he was in pain.

Something seemed to catch Donghyuck’s attention other than his captured servant; it took a moment for Mark to realize it was his scimitar that pressed heavily against his hip.

For the first time tonight, Donghyuck looked afraid and Mark relished in it **.**

A fleeting moment of stillness passed between them. The servant boy underneath Mark wouldn’t stop squirming, his trapped hands desperately trying to grab Mark’s own. But to Mark, the whole situation was nearly comical. What were these two planning to do after they, hypothetically, managed to kill him? Escape from a hostile camp into merciless wilderness where no gods ruled?

To think he almost lost his most prized possession for fleeting glances and glimpses. The thought infuriated him.

“Jeno!” he shouted, making Renjun tense.

They all waited until the drape to Donghyuck’s chamber split open, revealing a man dressed in similar fashion to Mark, although he didn’t try to conceal his face. A single strand of blonde hair fell on his forehead, a radiant contrast to the darkness of his uniform. He stopped behind Mark, the spear in his hand surpassing him in height. From across the room, Donghyuck chose not to pay attention to him, his glare devoted to Mark only.

Returning the stare, Mark lifted Renjun by his forearm, only to have him thrown at Jeno. The soldier caught him without a word.

“Now, where were we,” Mark paused, pretending to hesitate, “Your Majesty?”

Ignoring Renjun’s shouts of protest, Mark took a determined step forward, and then another one, and another… He circled Donghyuck like a predator, studying his Adonistic features – the elegant expanse of his neck, royal forehead, petal like lips.

There was something remarkable in the way Donghyuck resisted to even flinch when Mark’s gloved finger drew a line from that tiny brown mole on his neck, following a constellation to his collarbone that hid underneath the expensive material of his shirt. He’d lost Donghyuck’s striking eyes on him once he went behind the prince, settling on the backrest of the divan. From here, it appeared easier to approach Donghyuck, easier to whisper in Donghyuck’s ear, easier to curl his hand around Donghyuck’s bronze neck.

From here, jasmine burned wonderfully against Mark’s senses.

Donghyuck raised his chin stubbornly when Mark took him captive, careful not to squeeze too tight for him not to be able to breathe properly.

“You have a wonderful view from here, Your Majesty,” Mark said, his breath warm on Donghyuck’s flushed cheek. Languidly, he inspected the room stretched before them; nothing, from the struggling servant to cluster of stars sewn into the baldachin over Donghyuck’s throne, _nothing_ shone brighter than this boy Mark would raid cities and wage wars for.

Slowly, Mark’s hands traveled back to his own lap, leaning back slightly so he could put space between him and the prince.

“Although I can see why you selfishly keep this seat, I think there is a view I’d enjoy more.”

“And what could that be?” Donghyuck asked with an eye roll. Mark’s lips curled in a deviant smile.

“You, Donghyuck, kneeling before me.”

Mark chose to ignore the way Donghyuck’s nose scrunched into an arrogant snort, the prince visibly relaxing in his seat. His back pressed into Mark’s knee, but he didn’t complain. Somehow, this touch inflamed Mark more than their bare skin could.

“And let me guess,” Donghyuck said, amused, “if I don’t, my head will end up in a sack like my father’s.”

“Oh- oh _no,_ of course not. I wouldn’t leave the Southern Kingdom without an heir. Do you really take me for such a barbarian, Your Majesty? I am offended,” Mark said with a mock gasp, his hand over his heart. He enjoyed in the unimpressed glance Donghyuck threw his way, the prince falling back into his comfortness even with Mark’s shadow falling over him like menace.

Donghyuck closed his eyes, the glitter on his eyelids enrapturing underneath the candle light. He knew well he was worth more alive than dead.

Slowly, Mark rose to his feet. Donghyuck’s satisfied smile didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“You refuse?”

“I do”

“Very well. Jeno, kill the servant.”

“Wait!”

Donghyuck’s eyes flew open. On the other side of the room, Jeno hasn’t made the slightest intent to move, and Donghyuck felt utterly stupid when Mark leaned over him, his mouth twisted into a wicked grin.

The last sight of Renjun, before he got dragged outside by the soldier, burned at the back of Donghyuck’s mind, the servant’s tears running for his king on knees before the Desert Lion.

“Well now, this is what I appreciate more,” Mark said from Donghyuck’s seat. Surely, Donghyuck showed to be more beautiful while his knees dug into the soft sand, his skin glowing in the dimly lit room. Two moles, Mark knew hid behind that silky shirt, taunted him. And those eyes – _Gods,_ what Mark wouldn’t give for them to darken in lust as he worshiped Donghyuck night after night. He’d easily abandon his gods for this fallen prince, build him an altar and bend Donghyuck over it until he passed out in pleasure.

Except, Donghyuck held his head high. His stoic expression took Mark by surprise, especially when he made a move to stand up and Donghyuck wouldn’t even flinch. It slightly bothered him how unreadable Donghyuck appeared in some moments. Nothing but the red flush of his cheeks showed emotion, and for Mark that wasn’t enough.

“Tell me, Your Majesty, do you still feel like a king,” Mark said, standing before Donghyuck.

“Is that all you care about?” Donghyuck frowned. He locked his eyes with Mark, before averting his gaze to the empty throne. “I’ve told you before that I don’t need a crown to be king.”

Mark crossed his arms. “Even when the king is on his knees?”

That earned him a chuckle. “Sometimes more power holds a man on his knees if he plays his moves right.”

The next time their eyes met it made a shiver go down Mark’s spine. Donghyuck blinked slowly, enjoying the way Mark shifted unnervingly on his feet. His captor cleared his throat before asking, “And what might your next move be?”

“That is solely up to you. What do you want with me?”

Mark bit his tongue. Deep inside his mind, he knew Donghyuck played a game and Mark wasn’t going to be a mere pawn on his board.

“It depends on how much I could get for you. Who’d pay the highest – earl Jaehyun or the royal family?” Crouching down to Donghyuck’s level, he grabbed him by the jaw, observing. He heard Donghyuck inhale sharply. “Or I should just keep you to myself.”

The last one wasn’t a question, but a statement they both were aware of. Especially when Mark’s eyes lingered on those full lips, his grip on Donghyuck’s jaw tightening, he became aware why his hand burned whenever he touched this boy brighter than the Sun carriage.

No one spoke for a moment, long enough for Mark to count the almost invisible freckles on Donghyuck’s face. It made him look younger and more innocent than he tried to act.

Daringly, Donghyuck raised his perfect eyebrow. He brought his hand around Mark’s wrist and the touch almost made him jump out of his skin. It lingered there until Mark freed the prince from the hold on his chin.

“My incapable father is dead,” Donghyuck began, surprising Mark with his bold words, “and you’d be astounded by me with a golden laurel on my head. But I’m sure you wouldn’t look bad with one too.”

Mark couldn’t help the chuckle escaping his throat. Even the simplest person could guess what Donghyuck hinted at. Gradually, he rose to his feet, the prince absorbing his every move.

“What makes you think I’d enjoy your dirty capital streets and whore houses on each corner?” Mark asked, curious to what Donghyuck had to say. Mark’s never been to the Capital, but wicked stories of it reached even the desert. Sometimes, he’d stay awake at night trying to imagine some of the most splendid temples in the kingdom, brought up from marble and blues of lapis lazuli, surrounded by streets filled with beggars and animal feces. He’d rather make Donghyuck the prince of his endless waste and carry his gilded throne on his back as they moved, than scrape dog shit from his shoes each night he returned home.

“I’m not asking you to rule by my side,” Donghyuck interrupted his train of thoughts. “I would never be able to tame the wilderness inside of you.”

“Are you openly calling me a savage right now?”

“Maybe,” Donghyuck gave him a quick smile, the tiniest tilt of lips that made Mark’s heart skip, “but I could use a vassal in the east, someone to defend me from the tribes trying to break into the kingdom. You still get to be the Desert Lion, plus you’ll never have to fear for your men again. Supplies would never stop flowing in.”

“Your courage doesn’t cease to amaze me, Your Majesty,” Mark said without a second thought. “I make you kneel before me and you dare call me a vassal.” His hand felt around the handle of his scimitar. This time Donghyuck paid no attention to it. He looked as if he enjoyed more in bringing Mark discomfort, scanning him from his feet to the silvery pins on his uniform. “Not to mention my men would never fight for the Southern King, no matter how pretty his crowned head may look.”

“Your men would follow their leader wherever he may go.”

“Even so, why should I keep you? There is a big price on your head right now, more than you are offering.”

“Because it’s not gold you desire, am I right?”

Mark couldn’t recall how he ended up backed against Donghyuck’s divan, the prince he had kneeling before him now standing proud in his unearthly glow, the sand on his knees glimmering as he walked through the low light. His every step was perfectly measured, from the light sway of his hips, to the way he let his hair fall around his face and reveal those haunting eyes. It didn’t take long for Mark to realize he’d been the prey this entire time, marked from the very moment he stepped inside Donghyuck’s lair.

He sank deeper into the plush cushion once Donghyuck’s shadow fell over him, his graced hands settling on Mark’s shoulders, knees on either side of him. Mark’s own hands fell uselessly by his side.

“Am I right?” Donghyuck’s words, wrapped in silk, grazed Mark’s ear. His chest pressed against Mark’s, so close Mark could feel the studs on his uniform dig into Donghyuck’s skin. Intoxicated, those useless hands of his found their place on Donghyuck’s thighs. He couldn’t feel the material over his gloves, but their softness remained unmistakable when he squeezed and Donghyuck softly moaned in his ear.

And that was enough for Mark’s entire body to burst into flames.

In an instant, he had his arms wrapped around Donghyuck, effortlessly carrying him over to where his regal bed was placed. Nothing, not even the satin sheets beneath them or the yellow roses by the bed, _nothing_ could compare to the softness of Donghyuck’s lips.

Like a madman, Mark pushed Donghyuck into the mattress with his entire weight, chasing his mouth, his tongue. Donghyuck eagerly responded, throwing his arms around Mark’s shoulders, feeling the muscles there contract in an attempt to put his hand on the small of Donghyuck’s back and bring their bodies even closer. Their kisses grew desperate and, miserable, Mark asked for more.

Donghyuck didn’t resist when Mark’s lips moved to his jaw, biting on that one sensitive spot of his neck, breathing against Donghyuck’s small earlobe that _yes, you were right, I want you more than anything else._

After those words, he lifted his head to see the prince looking at him through half lidded eyes, his lips bruised like ripe figs, fingers tangled in Mark’s dark locks. He pulled Mark in just to bite on his lower lip, tease him with the tip of his tongue. Fleeting, mere touches from Donghyuck brought Mark to the very edge of sanity.

“Let me,” he begged, gripping the rim of Donghyuck’s shirt. He never stopped thinking about those two moles that almost cost him his life.

“No. You first,” the prince challenged. His palms were warm where he put them on Mark’s chest to push the warrior off of him, so he could sit on his heels and show Mark to lean against the headboard.

Hopeless without Donghyuck’s touch, he followed his instructions, shedding himself of his belt that held his scimitar. He allowed Donghyuck to fumble with the complicated ties on his tunic until he had most of it thrown aside, Mark left in only his black linen shirt and pants.

“Your hands,” Donghyuck exclaimed, admiring the scarred skin when he’d gotten Mark’s leather gloves off. He traced the silver marks, mouth agape, before placing a kiss at the centre of a calloused palm. Mark felt himself flush under Donghyuck’s flattering gaze.

“What about them?”

“Nothing, ‘m just admiring,” Donghyuck mumbled against the skin there. Then, to Mark’s utter shock, his pink tongue shyly touched the tip of Mark’s index finger, right before he closed his full lips around it. Left to Donghyuck’s mercy, his tongue lapped him up, saliva coating both index and middle finger. To make it even worse, his glitter-coated eyelids fluttered closed, painting Donghyuck into an image of wraithlike ecstasy.

“Donghyuck-“ Mark struggled with his voice, not being able to take his eyes off the prince who took his time with tormenting Mark, biting the tip of his finger before releasing it with an obscene pop. He seemed unfazed by Mark’s heavy breathing and the obvious tent forming in his pants. Cast in the shadow, his eyes were like two white stones at the bottom of a clear river, taking in Mark’s unruly form. Then, he grinned, perfectly aware of the effect he had on Mark.

Dropping on his hands, he crawled up to him, settling on Mark's lap. Instinctively, Mark pulled him in, gritting his teeth when Donghyuck purposely rubbed his ass against Mark’s hardness. With a grip on Donghyuck’s hips, he tried to make the prince repeat the movement, desperate for friction.

He heard Donghyuck snicker. A soft kiss fell under his ear, Donghyuck’s voice like honey.

“Na-ah, not yet.”

“Donghyuck, I am warning you-“

“What are you going to do, Mark Lee, hmm? Fuck me into submission?”

Mark hissed when Donghyuck bit hard on the same spot on his neck that he’d kissed with utmost faintness just now.

“Shirt off, now,” Donghyuck pulled back to watch Mark follow his every word without complaint, his neck tinged in beautiful crimson marks.

Just like his hands, Mark’s chest depicted a warrior brought up in a land where there were no gods to tame the nature that stained his skin in silver and red. Everything from the fresh burns to the widest scar, spreading over his navel and chest, lured Donghyuck in.

It was Donghyuck’s breath he felt first, then his lips moving over his jaw until their lips met. Mark’s eyelids fluttered in tranquility. This time, the kiss turned more languid, wet, Donghyuck gripping onto Mark’s shoulders for support, hips messily meeting halfway. Faintly, Donghyuck’s lips tasted like pomegranates.

Like this, with Donghyuck in his lap, greedily chasing his tongue, Mark could easily imagine his faith. To have this boy welcome him each night, a golden laurel on his head as he rode Mark until he had both of them drowned in bliss, almost had him promise his loyalty to this elysian king. It was the cold, familiar, feeling of death on his throat that made him stop in his words.

Cautiously, without moving too much, he opened his eyes to see Donghyuck before him, their lips a whisper apart. His eyes were as dark as a stormy sky, again.

 _Donghyuck,_ he tried to say, but his stirring only made Donghyuck press his knife deeper. With a brief glance at the weapon, he noticed it had a skillfully crafted handle, jewels pressed into the eyes of a lion’s head that was placed on the top. Mark almost laughed at the irony.

He couldn’t help but wonder where Donghyuck had it hidden - his boots, underneath the pillow Mark currently leaned on, anything could be an option. Whatever it may be, Mark was stupidly seduced into death by Donghyuck and he was the only one to blame for it. For the second time tonight.

A chuckle left Mark’s lips and Donghyuck narrowed his eyes at him. He was endearingly determined, mouth pressed in a firm line, and Mark’s life in his hands.

From the way the pressure on his throat kept lingering, Mark knew well Donghyuck hadn’t killed anyone in his life. Pretty boy, pampered his entire life, kept in his golden cage, Mark had a hard time imagining why his late father even bothered with bringing him to battle. Donghyuck, in his lace gloves, hadn’t experienced blood on his hands, didn’t understand the thrill Mark lived through whenever he’d ride his horse into an open battle.

And that all would be true in Mark’s mind if he never had the opportunity to see bitter winter in Donghyuck’s eyes and his servant ready to give his life for him. Donghyuck, this haloed prince – he may have never dipped his hands in someone’s blood, but he had men kill for him. And maybe, just maybe, Mark was ready to do the same for him.

Staring directly at Donghyuck, he shifted his hips so they rubbed against Donghyuck’s backside. He was still painfully hard, embarrassingly so. Above him, he heard Donghyuck gasp at the sensation.

“Kill me,” Mark provoked, enjoying how Donghyuck’s heated gaze fell from his own to Mark’s battered chest.

Then, he scowled, throwing the heavy dagger on the floor. It landed with a thud, the same moment Donghyuck’s fingers got entangled in Mark’s hair.

“To hell with you, Mark Lee,” he cursed before pulling Mark in, their lips colliding in a bruising kiss.

Impatiently, Mark pulled on the silky bow around Donghyuck’s collar, using the other hand to keep Donghyuck close as the prince moaned and begged in his mouth, kissing away the air from his lungs. They only separated for Mark to take Donghyuck’s shirt off. It ended up somewhere at the foot of the bed, joining Mark’s tunic and shirt.

“You-“ Mark swallowed, taking Donghyuck in, “you are luminous.”

Whatever Donghyuck may’ve tried to respond ended up as a gasp falling from his lips. His head fell back once Mark began peppering wet kisses down his neck, nibbling on the soft, sensitive skin there. He shuddered in Mark’s arms when he teased his nipples with cold hands, Mark’s tight hold on him not allowing him to lean away.

A trembling moan echoed in the room when Mark’s tongue replaced his hand, circling the rosy bud, now growing red from all the attention Mark was giving it.

“And you-“ Donghyuck breathed out. He pulled Mark by his hair, making their eyes meet. The blush on his cheeks was unmistakable. “-are insufferable.”

It was the need in Donghyuck’s eyes that made Mark push him on his back, caging him within his arms. He stripped him of everything – even the pretty lace gloves he liked so much – like a blank canvas Mark was about to paint in nothing but crimson and purple. His cock lay on his stomach, pink and neglected, leaking. To Mark he was a work of art for no one to appreciate but himself.

He felt overpowered with holding such privilege to be able to admire Donghyuck like this, out of breath and radiant, just for him. He followed a line with his mouth from Donghyuck’s navel, over the soft belly, teeth grazing on the way, stopping with a shuddering kiss underneath his ear.

“Do you have any idea what I’m about to do to you, Donghyuck” he whispered, surprised how low his voice sounded, tinged with want. His fingers curled around Donghyuck’s length, the touch drawing out a whiny moan from him.

“Your Majesty,” Mark heard him breathe out, head turning so to nose at Mark’s cheek. Donghyuck’s pupils were blown wide, hair sticking to his forehead, mouth curled in a grin.

“What?”

“Your Majesty,” he repeated and the realization dawned on Mark.

Donghyuck arched in his touch when Mark gave him another pump, so full and wet in his hand. He allowed the prince to dig nails into his bicep and leave marks, something to remind him of the way Donghyuck clung onto him desperately. He didn’t beg, Mark knew it was below him to act so, but he showed more with how his hips trusted into Mark’s palm, seeking friction.

“Would you like to ride me, Your Majesty?”

“Absolutely”

Mark resettled back against the headboard, pulling Donghyuck with him. Luckily, his prince seemed to be just as eager as him, pressing his body flush against Mark’s. Their chests moved in unison as Donghyuck searched for the ties on Mark’s pants, fingers tangling in the rough material while he tried to push them down Mark’s hips.

Mark almost sighed in relief when his cock sprung open, being left unattended for way too long. He gave it a few strokes, fighting an urge to force Donghyuck’s warm mouth down on him. He opted to save that scenario for some other time, some other time Donghyuck would submit to him completely, mind and body. For now, it was enough to feel Donghyuck’s heated skin on his own, glowing as if stars danced on it.

“Do you have-“ Mark wanted to say, only to have Donghyuck interrupt him with a kiss on the tip of his fingers, the blessed images from earlier playing before Mark again, and then his fingers slicked wet circling Donghyuck’s rim. Sweat gathered on his nape as Donghyuck rode his fingers, more regal than ever in his beauty with mouth half open and Mark’s name on his tongue like a prayer.

Once he pulled out all three fingers, Donghyuck moaned in his neck at the loss, making Mark lube himself with his spit as fast as he could. He had Donghyuck guide him back in, and Mark thought he could cum just from this – Donghyuck tight around him, clenching, whimpering. 

He allowed Donghyuck to adjust before he started moving by himself, holding onto Mark’s shoulder with one hand, the other pushing his own bangs from his face. The glitter from his eyelids got smudged in the meantime, now cast over his nose and chin, mesmerizing in their glow.

Drowned in splendor, Mark gripped Donghyuck’s waist, his own head falling against the headboard.

“Now,” Donghyuck gasped as Mark pounded his cock into him, “now I truly feel like a king.”

His words almost made Mark go over the edge, his thrusts getting more uneven as Donghyuck’s moans broke the silence in the tent, faltering whimpers muffled in the crook of Mark’s neck. He left himself to pleasure completely, his knees nearly giving out below him. Helplessly, he let Mark take the lead, unable to do anything but take him over and over again.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Mark groaned when Donghyuck searched his lips with his own, one particularly hard thrust making Donghyuck sob into their kiss and spill all over his stomach, hot and sticky.

Not giving Donghyuck a chance to collect himself, he pushed the prince on his back, throwing one of his legs over his own shoulder. As he picked up his previous pace, fast and merciless, Mark felt his own orgasm reaching. Breathing in jasmine now so familiar to him, Mark felt his dick twitch inside Donghyuck, filling him up.

He barely held himself above Donghyuck, grasping on the last bits of his strength so he could take in the heavenly wreck Donghyuck had become. Everything from his bruised throat, covered in love bites, to quivering lips, made a warm feeling flutter inside his chest. And those _eyes_ , oh what they would make Mark do only to have them on him like this each night in the shadows of his tent.

“If you’re done staring, you can call my servant to help me clean up,” Donghyuck said the coldness in his tone back.

“Oh, _Your Majesty_ , you’re wrong if you think I’m done with you,” Mark smirked, knowing the boy below him hoped for the same as Mark ran his hand down Donghyuck’s sensitive skin, making him shiver.

Many hours later, as dawn rose over their camp, a single trace of the new morning snuck into the tent. It peeked shyly through one the openings, searching for anything to graze on. Finally, it fell on a golden crown, adorning a king who wore nothing but it and a kiss on his hand, given to him from an outlaw who kneeled before his brilliant throne, whispering promises, swearing to build kingdom upon kingdom, throne upon throne, because oh he’s worshiped the Night for so long, it was finally the Sun that brought him to his knees.

Mark swore and felt the new world open before him. 

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/dawndeer99)
> 
> comments and kudos are much appreciated <3


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